I woke before 6am today to find my pillow wet with tears. I'd been dreaming about my sister, something that hadn't happened for several months. Jason tried to comfort me by quietly repeating, "I know." Even though they have been less frequent, every dream is a different variation of the same theme: I suddenly realize that my sister is still alive, and I have forgotten to check on her all these months. This time I dreamed I was visiting a friend in the hospital when I caught a glimpse of someone pushing her in a wheelchair to visit a church member. I couldn't catch her before she went into the room. While she was in there, she wanted to send me a note, asking me to wait for her. Since she couldn't find any paper, she removed the insole from her shoe to write on the back. Even though I waited outside the room, I still somehow missed her before she left. So the tears came as I woke up this morning. The day before we lost my sister that September, I'd woken in a panic at 1:14am and jumped out of bed to go see her before I realized the time. I'd been trying to push back the panic for days. So far, I've only been able to talk about that last day with two people because it's just too hard. I recently wrote a letter to my sister, telling her that I tried to get there in time to tell her goodbye. Because of circumstances beyond my control, I was minutes too late. Even though I'd never driven so fast on her gravel road. We hadn't been told the end would be that soon. But I knew. I knew that I needed to hurry. I suppose a dream interpreter could effortlessly make a connection here. I didn't have profound words stored up that I wish I could have told her in those last moments. We shared so much daily that we knew what the other was thinking. Mom often said that blood ran from one of our veins to the other's. I just wanted more time. Time to sit quietly beside her and remember the million ways she made the world an easier place.